


Cabin Fever

by kristenthelia



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-14
Updated: 2011-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:56:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristenthelia/pseuds/kristenthelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew of MJN Air get stranded. Cabin fever slowly starts to set in for Martin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cabin Fever

Martin sat in his corner, a shiver passing through him. Why had Carolyn decided to send them to northern Canada, in the dead of winter? Oh yes… he remembered: _money._

 _  
_

“We need this trip, Martin,” she had stated barely a week ago.  “No has booked anything in over a month now. I’m not about to bite the hand that feeds it. And neither should you.”

 

He had opened his mouth with a biting response, when Arthur interrupted. “Why would you want to bite a hand with food in it?”

 

Martin just sighed and went to prepare the flight plan for the journey. Better than sitting in a room with Carolyn and Arthur.

 

Martin shivered again, pulling his coat closer around him. Now he was stuck in Canada, during a blizzard, with Douglas and Arthur, in the tinniest hotel room he’d ever seen.

 

“Hey Skip?” Arthur said, bounding over to him. How could he be so bloody happy when it was so cold?

 

“Yes, Arthur?” he answered, his teeth chattering.

 

“You wanna go and play in the snow? Douglas just laughed at me…” he looked a little downtrodden before perking up again and bouncing. 

 

“I’m afraid not Arthur,” he said lightly, seeing the excitement leaving his friend’s face. “It’s too cold.”

 

“Well, of course it is,” he responded simply. “It’s snowing. I don’t think it snows in the summer, Skip.”

 

“Well, I’m cold enough in here,” he responded snippily, burrowing into his captain’s jacket more.

 

“Aww… come on, Skip!” Arthur pleaded, jumping up and down slightly, reminding Martin of a six year old. “We hardly ever get any time to go and enjoy the places we visit –“

 

“ _No,_ Arthur!” Martin interrupted.  “I do not want to play in the snow! And neither should you! You’re almost thirty years old!”

 

Martin suddenly realized that Arthur, bubbly, cheerful Arthur, had gone very quiet and was staring at the floor.  “Yeah, okay Skip.” He turned to shuffle away when Martin realized what he’d done.

 

“Wait Arthur,” he called, but the other man just continued walking. “I’m sorry…” it came out a little too soft. He sighed and furrowed into his chair, his heart heavy. He knew Arthur meant well, but all Martin could think about was how cold he was and how small and cramped the room was, how he wished he was back in England in his own bed, in his own flat even though the heating wasn’t great.

 

He sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. He hated snapping at Arthur like that, but the longer he was in this hotel, the more irate he became. Standing up, he stretched his shoulders. Grabbing the keycard, he moved out of the room ignoring Douglas’ questions.

 

He paced up and down the hallway a few times, trying to work out his nervous energy.  Once he calmed down a bit, he’d go back in and apologize to Arthur by offering to play charades with him. They could only be stranded in Canada for a few more days and then they can leave.

 

This thought didn’t calm him at all.  They had already been there 3 days by this point and the snow was still coming down. He’d been in a room with Douglas and Arthur for 3 days. Straight. No other human contact. He groaned in his hands at the thought of three more days.

 

He paused his pacing in front of the door and re-entered the small hotel room. Arthur was staring wistfully out the window while Douglas was lounging on the bed, his eyes closed.

 

The quiet was what was unnerving him, Martin decided.  Normally, there was always boisterous noise and word games and laughter.  But there wasn’t any now.  Martin spent much of his time in he wishing that they would, for once, shut up. Now that they had, he found it preferred it the other way.

 

He coughed lightly, trying to get everyone’s attention.  “So, erm, what do you think we should do? Inside,” he added quickly, seeing Arthur’s mouth open.

 

Douglas’ eyes slowly opened, gazing at him steadily.  “There’s always the mini bar.”

 

“I don’t want to get drunk, Douglas.”

 

“You know you’re not paying for it right?” He said, closing his eyes again. “Carolyn is. The perfect payback for sending us to this god awful place would be to charge her an arm and leg for it.”

 

“No, Douglas,” he responded. “She’s already paying for the extended stay, which is more kindness than she’s show in years, I think. I’m not going to push my luck.”

 

“What luck?” He replied.  “You don’t _have_ luck Martin.”

 

Martin just glared at his First Officer but turned to Arthur instead of saying anything. “What if we play Charades, Arthur?” he offered.

 

His happiness was immediate.  He whipped his head around, a grin plastered over his mouth. “Really?!” he nearly yelled.  “You’ll play Charades with me?”

 

“Yes,” Martin started at Douglas monotoned “no.”

 

Arthur stared between them a moment before Martin spoke up again. “ _Yes we are,”_ he gritted out.  “And Douglas will play, won’t you?” His tone was beseeching.

 

Douglas merely raised an eyebrow, but nevertheless sat up on the bed. “Alright. Why not? Maybe it will be better than last time.”

 

Martin doubted it, but perhaps it was worth it to see Arthur smile.


End file.
